


gunpowder and booze

by jaythewriter



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: Boys Actually Being Responsible and Having Fun, Left Behind as Static universe, M/M, New Year's Fluff, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 11:09:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5663980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaythewriter/pseuds/jaythewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people have their New Year's kisses a little early-- time is an illusion. But what Jay goes through every noisy holiday isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	gunpowder and booze

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Left Behind as Static](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075427) by [mistresspiece](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistresspiece/pseuds/mistresspiece). 



> Another holiday fic based in mistresspiece's universe, Left Behind as Static. Wrote it as a gift to her and because we discussed what Jay must go through on every holiday where there's fireworks. 
> 
> Content warning for characters dealing with PTSD while also dealing with past alcohol abuse.

(You're scared.)

(Well. No. You're not Scared-scared, you're practically bursting from your skin for this. The excitement settled into your bones the moment you woke and checked your phone, seeing the date: December thirty first. The sooner the clock strikes midnight, the better.)

(But the sweat on your brow has appeared there for a reason. There is no way around it.)

(There are too many elements at work here, too much going on that could go wrong and you're thinking about every one of them.)

(But he looks at you, and you know you're going to hold it together.)

"Jay?"

Tim calls from the outside, his voice hollowed out by the wall separation.

Heart beating fast, Jay straightens up, knowing that this must look bad. He's been standing here for five minutes, clutching the bottle of champagne (actual good champagne, Brian's parents are very good to them). Seeing it in his grip, Jay might as well be holding hands with Death itself.

(It's been so long since you tasted it something that burnt on the way down. Something that sat in your chest and spread through your veins with each beating pulse.)

He closes his eyes.

Brian's parents didn't know what they were doing. They just thought it was a nice gesture, share a little extra booze since their son is doing so well in school and his friends are a huge part of that. It'd be a shame for that to go to waste.

It's just a drink. Tim and Brian both are here. They will keep an eye on him. It won't go badly. It won't go south so long as he isn't alone.

"Coming," Jay calls back out to Tim. Taking the two mugs (no, they still can't afford 'fancy' cups, but he loves these mugs the most anyway, they're both cat shaped!), he tips the champagne in. He leaves a little less in his cup, which is easy enough. Brian's already broken into the bottle and these two servings have emptied it.

Taking a deep breath, Jay tucks the bottle under his arm and takes the cups as well. He wants to show Tim there is no chance of him sneaking any booze behind his back now.

He opens the screen door with his shoulder, the front door itself left open to let them have easy entry in and out of the house. Brian and Tim are right where Jay left them when he said he'd go get drinks. Tim lounges in his fold up chair, content, looking quite near sleep but Brian sees to it that he stays in the real world.

"Hey! Buddy! How are you!"

Brian, of course, is out of his seat and is taking it upon himself to be as much of a nuisance to Penelope as possible. Jay decided to train her to be a cat who enjoys leashes, which is going about as well as one would expect. She tugs and flails and bites, but Brian is apparently immune to it. Maybe he just can’t feel it anymore.

"I was gone for two seconds," Jay says, knowing well that that's a lie but with Brian he doesn't know any better at the moment.

Tim flashes Jay a look that he can't exactly read but neither of them say anything.

"I know but you look a little worried, bud," Brian announces for all three of them. Even Penelope stops struggling to break from his arms to look at her dad, her eyes big and shiny.

Jay squirms and drops his gaze to his feet.

"Uh, yeah, I am--"

"Well, don't be!"

Penelope is released so that she can chase a fluttering dead leaf, all thoughts of her father lost in her hunt for prey. Brian fills up the empty place she left in his arms with Jay, nearly picking him up off the ground. The champagne bottle tumbles down and clatters upon the porch, miraculously surviving the drop.

"We got you, man! Why do you think I drank so much? Less temptation, dude!"

Jay must flash red, because Brian laughs and takes it upon himself to plant a big sloppy kiss on his fuzzy cheek.

"Thank you, Brian. I appreciate it. Honestly. I'm gonna drop Tim's drink though."

Brian does put him down, but it's more likely that he just got distracted by Penelope again. She yowls her displeasure as she's scooped back into his oh so unforgiving embrace.

Now free, Jay can turn and give Tim the drink he was promised. He had his eyes on Jay and Brian the whole time, and he's looking considerably more awake now that he's smiling and stifling giggles.

"Why don't we get him drunk more often?" Jay asks, knowing the answer. Tim just shrugs, letting the question fall into a rhetorical field before taking the black cat mug. Of course Jay got the one that looks like Penelope, orange and stripey.

"I am so ready for bed, Jay, this isn't gonna help," Tim says, letting Jay snuggle into his lap. A strong arm loops across his belly, pinning Jay against Tim's chest. "I thought Ren loved me, why did she ask me to work today?"

"You're her best friend and she didn't seem happy about it," Jay points out. He watches Tim sip at his drink, a very visible wince forming upon his face. "You sure that it won't mix badly with your meds?"

"If I was new to them, maybe, but it's just one," Tim waves off. He might have avoided drinking altogether about a year ago, but he knew himself better than ever.

Jay couldn't help being proud of him for it.

(Now if you could just follow his lead.)

"How much time we got left?"

Tim takes the hand wrapped around Jay's middle and taps at Jay's watch. Nodding, Jay lifts his wrist and squints through the dark. The neon blue numbers tell him it's eleven fifty seven and he tells Tim as much.

"Alright. Brian, get Penelope in the house. We don't need her running away because she thought the sky was exploding."

"Yes, sir!" Brian nods, punctuating his words with a hiccup. He takes the poor angry cat with him, prancing inside the house and singing an old Disney tune Jay thinks he recognizes. It makes him think of puppets and well-dressed crickets.

Tim's hold on him tightens, and he's pressed securely against him. Soft lips press along Jay's pulse.

"That should leave us alone for the next five minutes."

Jay giggles under his breath, tilting his head to the side so that Tim can get at the rest of his neck. His laughter breaks into a soft squeal when Tim’s teeth grazes his skin. Glancing to the side, Jay sees that Tim has placed his mug on the ground, empty now. 

“You’re gonna mark me and he’s gonna see, you know he won’t shut up about it,” he warns, not really bothered by the idea but unsure if Tim would be. Apparently not, since he sucks at the bitten skin and leaves behind a nice pink mark that will surely turn purple. “That doesn’t count as my New Year’s Kiss.”

“Of course not,” Tim agrees, grinning fondly as he soothes the sting he left behind with rubbing fingers. 

The two of them fall silent, Tim stroking circles into Jay’s softening belly. They both gaze out into the night sky, both knowing that the other is silently appreciating that they can enjoy the night with such ease nowadays.

(You wish you could be the same way when it comes to explosions, the far-off bang of ignited gunpowder, creeping toward the house.)

(Through a door, a man you called a friend yells for you to get back outside, that you can’t run from this. You clutch your bleeding stomach and let yourself sob.)

Somewhere far away, but too near for comfort, colorful spiders begin to erupt in the sky, and they bring sharp noises that immediately break into Jay’s chest. 

Tim hugs him closer, his head pressing into the nape of Jay’s neck.

“It’s not even midnight yet, why are they doing that,” Jay hisses through his teeth. He growls deep in his chest, truly frustrated, hating that his hands are already shaking and yet the fireworks aren’t even in his field of vision.

Tim soothes him, rubbing his head against Jay, a reminder that he’s close and won’t let anything happen to him.

And, before either of them know it, Jay’s watch is beeping, announcing the arrival of another year.

(Not yet. You set your watch to go off five minutes before midnight. You both had decided, time is an illusion, you deserve to enjoy holidays as much as anyone else without the threat of a mental breakdown, and having your kiss early isn’t unreasonable.)

“Happy New Year,” Tim whispers into his ear, sending a shiver down Jay’s spine. He squeezes him, prompting him to hop off of Tim’s lap and stand. Having to use the armrests of his chair, Tim joins him on his feet, looping his arms back around Jay’s waist and pulling him in tight.

Without thinking about it, Jay crooks his knees, letting Tim be the taller one so he can look up at him and feel safe and small in his arms. He wraps his own arms over Tim’s neck, closing his eyes and leaning in. Tipsy Tim is cute, likes to give him little muzzles on his neck, he’s probably a great kisser too. 

It’s easy to forget that there are fireworks popping off in the distance, growing in volume as the true countdown slowly ticks away.

“Happy New Year!! You’re both my New Year’s Kiss!”

Brian’s voice breaks Jay from the trance he’s fallen into. Eyes opening, there’s a split second where Jay gets to see the screen door flying open and slamming against the wall. When he blinks, he finds he’s being torn away from Tim and he’s in Brian’s equally strong arms now, no regards given to safety and gravity. He tries to keep his feet on the ground, but one of Brian’s hands slips under his knees and he barely has one set of toes left on the porch, the other flying straight up like Jay is a swooning damsel newly rescued from a terrible fate. 

“Brian, careful with him--!”

A hot mouth catches Jay’s, all tongue and not much thought. He’s so much in shock he can’t remember that he could easily pull away, or, no, not really, he’ll hit the ground and probably get a concussion. At least it’s Brian and not, well, anybody else in the world. Not the worst looking guy and he’s. Strong. Extremely strong. Jay feels heat flush into his face before he tentatively returns Brian’s kiss, looping one arm around the back of his neck just before he’s gingerly lowered to the ground. 

“Your turn!”

“I’m, I’m good, I-- Okay.”

From where he is on the ground, Jay sees that Brian has moved onto Tim and that he’s receiving similar treatment. His back pushed to the wall, Brian looks like he might be sucking the life out of poor Tim, though he doesn’t look like he has many complaints about it.

With a wet smacking sound, he parts from Tim, wiping his mouth with his sleeve before proudly marching back into the house, singing a song Jay thinks Queen wrote. Don’t stop me now, I’m having such a good time…

After a very pregnant pause where the two of them are standing listening to Brian parade around the house, Jay turns his head to catch Tim’s eyes.

They share a nervous giggle together. Hanging in the air between them is an unspoken promise that neither of them will discuss their feelings on what just happened, however positive they might be.

“Guess I should get in the house,” Jay says, glancing at his watch. It’s two minutes after midnight, according to it-- which really means he has three minutes until the clock actually strikes twelve. 

Tim’s face turns briefly grave before he nods and pulls away from the wall. Stooping down, he takes the mugs that Jay brought outside, glancing down into the one Jay filled for himself. Meeting Jay’s eye, he holds out the still-filled mug, offering it to him.

“Still want it?”

He knows he poured it for himself. But looking at it, Jay can’t muster up the will to take it. He doesn’t even want it. Is that good? Is he being a scrooge if he doesn’t drink up to the new year upon them? And Tim clearly has no problem with him drinking, it would be a waste if he didn’t take the chance. 

Except he isn’t missing out on anything.

“I think we should save this for Brian,” Jay says, taking the mug from Tim. “It’s a gift from his parents after all.”

Surprise lights up Tim’s features. He blinks quickly, and shakes himself back into the moment, something new crossing his face that Jay cannot name but he wants to see it again, and again, and again. 

(You love being his greatest pride.)

A broad hand pressed to the middle of Jay’s back, he allows himself to be guided back into the safety of their home. Brian has claimed the couch, flopping across the cushions and pinning a very upset but resigned Penelope to his chest. Considering it’s the holidays, Jay decides to take mercy upon her and free her from Brian’s grip. He fills in the empty spot she leaves behind with the mug, pushing it into Brian’s hands. 

“Oh my god,” the man whispers, still awake enough to process what was just given to him. He holds it reverently, like Jay has just brought him the answer to existence. Brian attempts to stretch out his neck, so he can lean closer to Jay, but to no avail. Jay obliges when he crooks a finger, beckoning him in, and receives another warm little fuzzy peck to the cheek as thanks. “You are amazing, you know just what I need.”

“Nah, I just know how best to get you to sleep. Remember to lay on your side,” Jay says with a gentle pat to Brian’s head, before Tim takes his arm and gives him a tug of warning. Indeed, upon glancing over to the television where Brian has Dick Clark’s New Year’s Eve Countdown on, he sees he has less than sixty seconds to hole up in the bedroom.

“Good night, Brian,” he says quickly before rushing away, heading from the living room and into the bedroom hallway. 

He darts inside the appropriate door after Tim, quick to place his phone on the charger beside the bed and jump into the sheets. An assortment of tools lay waiting for him-- an extra thick blanket to tuck his head under, his laptop so he can find a good distraction should he need one, and a pair of earmuffs along with earplugs. 

(You did find the special muffling headgear you’ve seen on veterans in passing. It wasn’t easy, took tons of searching, and this was back in July, for fuck’s sake, you were aware of how you would react back then. Yet the cashier felt the need to give you a look when you handed the gear over, like they couldn’t understand why someone your age would need such a thing.)

(You chickened out. Asked them to just put the item back while you sheepishly piled the rest of your order onto the belt.) 

“C’mon. Muffs on now.”

Distant banging noises send a nervous shudder up Jay’s spine. He takes Tim’s orders to heart and slips under the blanket. Unwrapping the earplugs, he pushes them in, dulling the world’s impact upon him. The earmuffs slip on comfortably-- and he feels his phone rattle about on the bed, announcing that he was just in time.

At first, the world is utterly still. Jay only hears his pulse, and that alone puts him at the edge. It’s quick and jumpy, worsening by the second. He has to laugh at himself for being frightened by his own rushing blood. Even his nervous giggles don’t sound right to him.

A warm weight slides in behind him, pulling him into a familiar lap. Just like earlier, Tim puts his arms around Jay’s waist, holding him against a round belly and a strong chest. Letting out a shuddering sigh, Jay melts against him and pretends he can’t hear the bangs coming closer. He knows one of Tim’s neighbors is a hunter; maybe he’ll come out and shoot at the sky in celebration. God, he hopes not.

Reaching past Jay, Tim pulls the laptop closer so that it sits directly in front of them. Powering it up, the screen opens to the last Netflix movie they had on. Jay can’t even remember the title, just that there were killer zombie beavers and they were eating everyone they could get their grimy little teeth in.

Before he starts the movie up again, Tim clicks over the closed captions options, switching them on. Jay wiggles in delight, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s neck.

With that, Jay finds himself sitting and watching the stupidest horror movie ever alongside Tim on his first morning of the new year. They make fun of it together, Tim’s voice close enough that Jay can hear it past the earmuffs and plugs. Any banging and explosions that Jay would’ve heard go unnoticed.

He could almost forget that he had to prepare for this night, like it was a terrible creature creeping up on them.

So much buzzing in his head, so many worries.

And it all came down to this.

Jay wonders if he should maybe worry a little less next year.


End file.
